Dickson and
Mick took advantage of the warm and starry night and moved the kitchen
table and chairs to the front verandah where they served the evening meal,
complete with a bottle of red altar wine. "It's not a bad drop," Tom explained
as he uncorked the bottle, then took a sniff. "I'll just let it breathe
a little."

"Would you
like something for starters?"

"Perrier would
be nice. My, my, I can't get over the position of this house. Were you
worried about the recent tsunami?"

"Terrified."

"I don't blame
you... reminds me of the ride over here."

"You arrived
safe and sound."

"That, my friend,
is because I recited the entire Rosary as I clung on for dear life. I hope
you don't mind, Dickson, but I'll phone a taxi for the return trip. Besides,
I don't want to be responsible for any damage I might inflict on your rear
suspension. Actually, I must say that's the first time I've ever prayed
inside a helmet."

As the conversation
meandered throughout the meal and covered many different topics, Dickson
waited patiently for the Rev. to reintroduce the subject of Robert Down's
dilemma. Meanwhile, Tom couldn't resist touching on the matter of religion
and God's creation. "Do you boys believe in creation, or the `Big Bang'
and evolution theory?" Both boys chose the latter option in unison. "I
see. Well, God saw fit to give us all a free will so I suppose it's your
prerogative to use it as you wish."

"Is that the
way you chose your path in life, Tom?"

"I didn't need
to, I simply followed in my parents' footsteps."

"So you didn't
exercise free will."

"No, not per
se."

"Does that
sound to you like you never used your free will to make a choice?"

"You're splitting
hairs, Dickson."

"You've never
been tempted to deviate from your belief?"

"Would you
like me to vacate the pulpit next Sunday and introduce you as the guest
speaker?" No one could resist a hearty laugh at Tom's joke, including the
Rev. himself. "After all, Jesus also wore sandals when he delivered his
sermons. However, Dickson, I do admit that you have a point. Blind and
unquestioned faith in any circumstance can be negative. By the same token,
it's impossible to be both the devil and an angel at the same time."

"You don't
know Dickson like I do," Mick grinned.

"Goodness--or
God, if you like--is in both of you boys--trust me, I know about these things."

"Do you see
God in Robert Down?"

"Why do you
ask?"

"He's pretty
rough around the edges and he used to belong to a bikie gang."

"Sometimes,
Dickson, God takes a vacation."

"And the Devil
steps in?"

"The Devil
never misses an opportunity. How much do you know about the situation between
Horace and Robert?"

"You mean the
loan?"

"Ah, so you
do know."

"It would be
cool to know how you feel about the problem, after all you're a man of
the cloth." Dickson gambled on the fact that the Rev. had consumed quite
a bit of wine as well as port with his coffee, and might consequently be
more inclined to speak freely.

"It began honourably
enough. $100,000 dollars is a lot to pay for a prize bull but I can understand
the reward potential of putting it to stud and profiting from its services.
At $5,000 a service-which I've always thought an amusing term--it wouldn't
take long to recoup the capital. Obviously, Horace thought so too or he
would not have lent Robert the money. And that was where Horace made his
mistake; he should have purchased the bull himself instead of leaving the
transaction dealings to Robert. When the sale fell through because of a
higher bid, and Horace demanded the return of his money, Robert should
have obliged and then discussed Plan B with Horace afterward."

"Yes, I agree."

"It was a terrible
mistake."

"Dreadful."

"And as you
know it led to this disaster."

"It certainly
did, but we're all wiser in hindsight, Tom."

"Very true,
Dickson. I wonder I might have another port?"

"By all means."

Tom was far
more rosy-cheeked than inebriated and thoroughly enjoyed the company and
atmosphere. "As you're no doubt aware, my friends, Plan B was to purchase
the farm and use the $100,000 as a deposit. But when that also fell through,
and the O'Reillys reneged, Robert's gambling problem got the better of
him, exacerbated by that horrendous home brew he makes. He offered me a
glass one time and I almost expired on the spot."

"He didn't
blow it all, though."

"No, no, no,
not all of it, and he's convinced that he can recoup his losses by gambling
the remainder, or at least some of it. And that's what happens, my friends,
when God takes a vacation and the Devil moves in."

"'Vacation'
seems a strange word to use."

"We're God's
hosts; it's up to us whether or not we invite him into our hearts."

"Have you tried
to talk some sense into Robert?"

"When Robert
refuses to listen he refuses to listen. By the time he realizes the gravity
of his mistake it will be too late."

"And then?"

Tom drained
the remaining port in his liqueur glass and shrugged, "That's anyone's
guess." He checked his watch. "My goodness, how time flies! I've had such
a good time I didn't realize how late it is--way past my bedtime." Tom went
on to thank the boys profusely for their generous hospitality, then used
his cell phone to call a taxi.

"You're a genius,"
Mick said as the taxi drove away, "a bloody genius."

"Compared to
what or whom?" Dickson asked, and led the way back inside the house.

"The Rev. has
no idea that you and I were ignorant of all those details about Robert.
As far as he was concerned he told us what we already knew. Ha! I don't
believe it!"

"You make it
sound like trickery."

"No, not trickery.
Tom opened up of his own volition, and you didn't tell one single lie.
Anyway, the bottom line is that we now know the full story."

"Do we? Let's
sleep on it and discuss it tomorrow."

Dickson, however,
couldn't sleep so he busied himself by writing another report for Doris.
After that, he took a stroll along the beach in the glow of a full moon
whose pale yellow luminescence flooded the ocean and danced like a thousand
fairy lights on the undulating peaks of the chop.

Life can be
so simple, he thought, so why do we humans have such a penchant for complication?
For a while he entertained the idea of quitting his private investigator
role in order to pursue something less complex and demanding. This business
is with me 24/7 he thought--I have no life outside of the Horace Fink affair.

A larger than
average wave swept ashore and enveloped his bare feet to a height above
his ankles. During its rapid retreat, it caused the boy's feet to sink
a few inches into the sand. "I wonder how far I'd sink if I stood here
too long," he said aloud, then compared that situation with his professional
one.

Next morning,
over breakfast of cereal and fruit, Dickson and Mick discussed Tom Samuels'
revelation the previous night. "I included that information in the report
for Doris," Dickson admitted.

"Do you think
that's wise? What if it sparks an argument between Doris and Horace?"

"What's the
point of a report without all the information we've gathered? Anyway, I
included a warning to Doris about keeping mum about this, and to discuss
the issue with you and me before she goes any further."

"As far as
Bob Down is concerned," Dickson continued, "what Tom knows about the situation
was revealed in confidence to a priest. Bob thinks that only he and Horace
are aware. If either Bob or Horace discovers that the situation is known
to `outsiders' it could lead to ... who knows what?"

"Have you delivered
the report to Doris yet?"

"Not yet."

"I think you
should deliver it in person, Dicko, as in invite her over here or arrange
a meeting somewhere in private."

The black VW
Golf convertible arrived mid afternoon at the beach house. It was no surprise
to Doris to see the boys out surfing. She felt sufficiently familiar with
the boys to help herself to a glass of cooking sherry while she sat on
the front verandah and watched the spectacular gymnastics display out on
the waves.

When the lads
returned to shower under the hose, Doris complimented them on their youthful
agility and skill. "If Horace were out there I'd need to call the rescue
helicopter," she laughed. "You chaps are a joy to watch, and I don't mean
just in the surf. If only I were 16 again."

Once towelled,
Dickson gave Doris the report to read while he and Mick changed into dry
shorts and grabbed a beer each from the fridge. By the time they rejoined
their guest on the front verandah, she was reading the report a second
time.

"I'm not sure
what to think of this," she said, shaking her head. "However, I am annoyed
that Horace would go ahead and blow all that money without firstly consulting
me. Sometimes he forgets that we're married, either that or he doesn't
care."

"What do you
intend to do about it?"

"Do? What can
I do? As you suggested, Dickson, it would not be wise to discuss this with
either party. I suppose I could discuss it with Tom Samuels but I'm not
sure what benefit might result from that. Besides, he may be cross with
you for speaking out of line. Any suggestions, Mr. Holmes?"

"I'm tempted
to speak to Bob Downs, but I don't quite know how to broach the subject
without getting my head blown off."

"We can't have
that, darling, you're far too handsome for that. I like your head where
it is."

"I'm not too
sure about that," Mick chirped, and received an elbow in the ribs. "Ouch!
Touchy, touchy."

"However,"
Doris resumed, "I think a meeting between you boys and Mr. Down could be
most beneficial. You know, a woman rarely proposes to a man. Instead, she
manipulates the situation to inspire the man to propose to her. Call it
devious, if you will, but it works."